


I'm not a monster, I believe (like a liar would believe)

by Yukichouji



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jughead Jones, Bruises, Drugged Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Dubious Consent, Episode Related, Episode s03e17: The Raid, Established Relationship, Hurt Jughead Jones, M/M, Overstimulation, PWP, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Sort Of, Top Sweet Pea (Riverdale), gets some action, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukichouji/pseuds/Yukichouji
Summary: “Alright, alright. Calm down.” Jughead says, as much to Fangs as to himself. But Fangs is right, if those really are drugs, and the way their luck has been going lately that’s exactly what they are, they need to act fast. There’s no telling how much Sweet Pea got into his mouth or onto any other  mucous membranes and Jughead doesn’t actually know if there’s the chance that the stuff can be absorbed through the skin, as well. They need to get Sweet Pea clean quick and then deal with the effects of the drug, let it run its course if they have to.“The bunker!” Jughead blurts out as soon as the thought hits him. It’s private enough and no-body but them knows about it so they’ll be safe. They can hunker down there until the drugs work their way back out of Sweet Pea’s system. And it has a shower and a decent supply of drinking water and food, which is pretty much perfect. Bless Dilton Doyle and his delusional survivalist tendencies. “We need to get him there now.”ORDuring the raid on the apartment building Mad Dog's family lives in Sweet Pea gets doused with a bad batch of Fizzle Rocks. Only, instead of making him want to tear shit apart, it just makes him want to fuck. Jughead bears the brunt of it.
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Sweet Pea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	I'm not a monster, I believe (like a liar would believe)

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a little break from my WIP, so I went ahead and cranked out almost 7k words of pure, unapologetic and very much pointless smut...
> 
> I marked this non-con to be safe. It can be read as either dub-con (on both sides), or non-con. The lines are fluent, I suppose. Please heed the warnings and be mindful of potential triggers.
> 
> I have no idea _what_ demon I was trying to exorcize with this, but yeah. Sorry? Maybe?
> 
> I sadly have no beta and all mistakes are mine, though you are welcome to point me towards them, should you feel so inclined. Proceed at your own risk.

~*~*~

Archie comes jogging back at the same time that the rest of the Serpents and Archie’s friends depart from the building and, after spotting Jughead, aim towards him to re-group. At Jughead’s questioning glance Archie shakes his head and spreads his hands, defeated. Kurtz got away.

Fucking great, Jughead thinks and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, hoping that it’ll help sooth his headache. Falling out of a second story window hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience and while he knows he can count himself lucky that nothing’s broken or sprained, he knows he’s going feel like shit tomorrow. He’s already sore as Hell and he can feel the burn of the cuts on his face and hands, not to mention the bruises he’ll no doubt find beneath his clothes once he gets home and has a chance to take stock.

As soon as his gaze drifts over to the others though, Jughead can tell that something’s wrong. They’ve built a sort of semi-circle around one figure in the middle, keeping their distance from him as they walk towards Jughead and Archie and as they get closer Jughead realizes that it’s Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea who’s hair and face and most of his upper body are covered in a sheen of white, crystallized powder, holding his coated hands away from the rest of his body like it’ll make a difference.

“Shit.” Jughead curses under his breath and rushes over, as quickly as his battered body will let him. “What happened?”

Sweet Pea looks at Jughead through the whitened strands of his bangs, his eyes kind of wide and Jughead can definitely see that he’s rattled, although he’s trying to play it down. Fangs comes up next to Sweet Pea and answers for him, rushed and not as good at hiding his worry as Sweet Pea is. “I don’t know, man. One of the Gargoyles just grabbed a bowl and dumped the stuff over Sweet Pea’s head! I think it’s Fizzle Rocks or some shit. We gotta do something!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down.” Jughead says, as much to Fangs as to himself. But Fangs is right, if those really are drugs, and the way their luck has been going lately that’s exactly what they are, they need to act fast. There’s no telling how much Sweet Pea got into his mouth or onto any other mucous membranes and Jughead doesn’t actually know if there’s the chance that the stuff can be absorbed through the skin, as well. They need to get Sweet Pea clean quick and then deal with the effects of the drug, let it run its course if they have to.

“The bunker!” Jughead blurts out as soon as the thought hits him. It’s private enough and no-body but them knows about it so they’ll be safe. They can hunker down there until the drugs work their way back out of Sweet Pea’s system. And it has a shower and a decent supply of drinking water and food, which is pretty much perfect. Bless Dilton Doyle and his delusional survivalist tendencies. “We need to get him there _now_.”

Jughead throws a hurried glance at Archie, who’s followed Jughead over and he nods curtly. “I’ll take care of the rest here. Go.”

Jughead’s not going to let himself be told twice. “Thanks.” He throws over his shoulder, already in the process of herding Sweet Pea along towards their bikes, gritting his teeth and ignoring the discomfort moving causes. Sweet Pea spits on the ground several times and curses under his breath. He moves normally still, but something in his voice sounds off and it serves to heighten the sense of urgency Jughead feels.

He pulls his beanie off of his head and shoves on his helmet in record speed, not even bothering to close the straps before he gets onto his bike and kicks the stand out form under it. “Leave your bike.” Jughead says, his tone firm and commanding, when he turns his head and sees Sweet Pea walking over to his own motorcycle. “I’m driving. Get on.”

“I’ll get this shit all over you, too.” Sweet Pea protests, holding up his arms to show off the white-coated upper half of his body, but Jughead just gives a curt shake of his head, impatient in his worry.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll both shower at the bunker. But we don’t know how fast this stuff hits or how much you got into your system. Not worth the risk.”

Sweet Pea gives his own bike one more unsure glance, but then caves and climbs onto Jughead’s, placing his hands on Jughead’s waist instead of wrapping his arms around him, keeping more space between them than he normally would. Jughead huffs, grabs Sweet Pea’s wrists and pulls until Sweet Pea yields and lets Jughead sling his arms around Jughead’s middle, pressing them flush together.

“I’m not risking you falling off of the back halfway there.” Jughead presses out through his teeth and throws a warning glance at Sweet Pea over his shoulder. Sweet Pea just glowers at him and Jughead would appreciate how ridiculous it makes him look with the sheen of white covering his face, if he weren’t so fucking worried, but Sweet Pea just tightens his arms around Jughead and holds on as Jughead starts his bike, revs the engine and takes off.

~*~*~

The drive to the bunker is a short one, thank God, even though it’s located in the middle of the woods. 15 minutes and they’re as far in as they can get on the bike, then another 10 minute walk and Jughead is crouching down to open the hatch and let Sweet Pea climb down the ladder ahead of him. As soon Jughead’s closed the hatch back up and scrambled down after Sweet Pea, he flicks the light switch and herds Sweet Pea further in so that he can help Sweet Pea strip out of his soiled clothes.

Sweet Pea lets Jughead fuss over him, unusually subdued and that doesn’t exactly make Jughead feel any less worried. He thinks he can see a flush begin to spread over Sweet Pea’s face underneath the powder, but won’t be able to say for sure until Sweet Pea’s washed the stuff off. In nothing but his boxer shorts Sweet Pea disappears into the bathroom to peruse the shower and scrub himself clean.

For a moment, Jughead wonders whether he should follow and make sure Sweet Pea doesn’t faint and hit his head in there or something, but then he decides against it. Sweet Pea looked steady enough on his feet at least and Jughead busies himself with gathering up Sweet Pea’s clothes and stuffing them into one of the plastic garbage bags Dilton kept in a shelf near the cot. Then he sends Fangs a text, asking him to come by in the morning, if he doesn’t hear from them in the mean time, and bring both of them a change of clothes.

Once he’s put his phone to the side, Jughead starts stripping out of his own clothes and folding them into another, separate garbage bag, although he pauses for a moment, his stomach clenching uncomfortably, before he pulls his beanie off of his head and stuffs it in with the rest of his things. It’s not gone or ruined, he tells himself, all it needs is a go through the washer and it’ll be good as new. It hardly makes him feel any better, but there’s not a lot he can do about that now. He managed to get more than a little of the Fizzle Rocks onto his clothes in his handling of Sweet Pea, but aside from his hands, most of his skin is still powder-free, so he hopes he’s going to be OK.

He doesn’t feel strange at least. Not really. Aside from the jitteryness that comes from his worry for Sweet Pea and the dull ache of his fresh bruises, that is, but that’s not exactly anything out of the ordinary. Jughead can hear the shower shutting off and a couple seconds later, Sweet Pea steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin covered in goose flesh. While Dilton managed to install a shower and a toilet, he didn’t bother with a water-heater, so the only temperature available is near freezing.

“How are you feeling?” Jughead gives Sweet Pea another worried once over, but can’t detect anything out of place aside from the slight flush on his face and neck. So either he’d been right about that before, or it’s just an after-effect of the cold shower.

“Cold.” Sweet Pea throws back a little morosely and Jughead can’t help the small, fond smile that creeps onto his face at Sweet Pea’s tone. “Like an idiot, mostly.”

“Could have happened to anyone.” Jughead tries to sooth him, but Sweet Pea just twist up his mouth and raises an eyebrow at him and Jughead decides to leave it alone for now. He can take care of his boyfriends battered pride once everything else has been dealt with. “Why don’t you light some of the candles to warm the place up a little? I think it’s best if I hop into the shower, too. Just to be safe. And grab some of Dilton’s stashed water. Drinking a lot is probably a good idea.”

He holds up his coated hands to underline his point and Sweet Pea gives him a curt nod before padding off to find a lighter.

The water temperature is a pretty decent incentive not to dawdle, but Jughead forces himself to stay under the ice cold spray long enough until he’s sure he’s scrubbed himself off thoroughly. In part though, he’s actually kind of grateful for the cold shower, because it serves at least to get rid of the somewhat embarrassing effect seeing Sweet Pea wet and practically naked has on him, even in their current situation. He just can’t help it. Sweet Pea is pretty hot.

And Jughead’s a teenaged guy, he has a hard enough time controlling his hormones as it is… But this really isn’t exactly the best time to get distracted thinking of sex, so yeah. There will be plenty of opportunity for that after the crisis has been managed.

There’s one clean towel left and Jughead uses that to dry himself off, then wraps it around his hips the same way Sweet Pea had done with his and steps back out into the main room of the bunker. The candles that are scattered across surfaces all around the bunker have been lit and Jughead can already tell that the air has started to warm up a little. Which gives him hope that his teeth will stop chattering soon. He rubs his hands up and down his arms to speed up the process a little.

Sweet Pea is pacing restlessly back and forth near the entry to the bunker, the flicker of the candle light painting eerie, twisting patterns onto Sweet Pea’s exposed skin and Jughead swallows around the dryness in his mouth. Once Sweet Pea turns to face him Jughead can see that the flush has deepened and crept down across his neck and onto his chest. Plus, he’s sweating, which is a little strange given that the bunker really hasn’t warmed up _that_ much yet.

So it must be due to the drugs, Jughead thinks and on his way over to Sweet Pea picks up the half finished water bottle Sweet Pea must have left on the table in the center of the small room. Sweet Pea stops his pacing and fixes dark eyes on Jughead, watching him intently as Jughaed moves to cross the space between them, his expression weird in a way that makes a fresh wave of goose bumps break out across Jughead’s skin.

“How are you feeling?” Jughead asks carefully once they’re close and he can see how dilated Sweet Pea’s eyes are, the black of the pupils so large it swallows up almost the entire iris, drowning out all color, the way they usually only are when they’re fucking. Sweet Pea’s breathing more quickly than usual, too, doesn’t make a move to answer Jughead’s question, just stares at him, dark and intense and it unnerves Jughead more than he feels comfortable admitting.

When Sweet Pea takes a step towards him, Jughead thrusts the water bottle up between the two of them, presses it against Sweet Pea’s chest as if he can keep him at bay like that and rushes out, his voice catching a little and higher than he’d like: “You should really be drinking more.”

He’s not afraid, Jughead vehemently tells himself. He refuses to be afraid of Sweet Pea. _For_ him, definitely, but never _of_ him. And still, Sweet Pea just keeps walking, crowding Jughead, backing him up until he’s pressed against the cold wall of the bunker and has nowhere left to go. Sweet Pea grabs Jughead’s wrists, his big hands wrapping around them more tightly than they normally would, enough so to make Jughead suck in a breath through is teeth and the water bottle clatters to the floor loudly as Jughead’s hand opens from the pressure.

Sweet Pea shoves Jughead’s arms against the wall, his hands on either side of Jughead’s face, and steps in closer still until he can shove his knees in between Jughead’s, make him spread his legs for Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea’s hips press up against Jughead’s and Jughead can feel the hard, hot line of Sweet Pea’s dick against his lower stomach, the towel a flimsy barrier that only serves to make Jughead feel more exposed.

They’ve fucked plenty of times and getting a little rough isn’t exactly new either, but _this_ is. Because normally, if Jughead shows the slightest sign of discomfort, Sweet Pea pulls back, loosens his grip, makes sure Jughead _knows_ that all he has to do is utter a word and Sweet Pea will stop and Jughead feels nothing but _safe_ with him. Would trust Sweet Pea with his life. But Sweet Pea isn’t backing off now, tightens his grip around Jughead’s wrist when he tries to worm free of Sweet Pea’s hands until Jughead gasps, pain shooting down his arms, and has to subside out of fear that Sweet Pea’s going to do actual damage, the delicate bones grinding together dangerously.

It makes Jughead’s heart leap up into his throat, a feeling he’s entirely unused to when it comes to Sweet Pea and he hates it more than he can say. “Sweets?” He breathes, in a desperate attempt to snap Sweet Pea out of it, his voice catching a little when Sweet Pea starts to undulate his hips, rubbing up against Jughead’s lower stomach.

Instead of reacting to Jughead’s voice, Sweet Pea leans in and presses a hard kiss to Jughead’s mouth, heated and hungry, a painful contrast to how soft and careful he normally is and all Jughead can do is try to move with him, to follow his lead or be hurt in his struggle. The kiss is almost frantic, Sweet Pea biting at Jughead’s lips until he whines into the kiss, the sting sharp and his teeth bruising, then shoving his tongue into Jughead’s mouth like he’s chasing after something he just can’t reach.

Sweet Pea growls against Jughead’s throbbing lips, a sound barely human that has Jughead’s stomach clench fearfully, his breathing hitch and then stutter out of rhythm as he chokes on Sweet Pea’s tongue. He presses back against Sweet Pea with his own tongue, tries desperately to keep him from cutting off Jughead’s air supply, but it feels like it’s a struggle he can’t keep up and there’s a distant sort of panic behind that thought.

Sweet Pea lets go of one of Jughead’s wrists, the way it aches when he does leaving no doubt in Jughead’s mind that he’ll have bruises there tomorrow, and reaches down. Grabs hold of both of their towels and yanks them off hard enough to make it feel like Jughead’s going to have rug burn and then it’s skin on skin, no barriers left, the hot, hard length of Sweet Pea’s dick pressing up against the soft stretch of skin beneath Jughead’s belly button.

Jughead pulls in desperate breaths through his nose and even with the stark discomfort, he can’t help but react to Sweet Pea, to his touch, his closeness, and he’s half-hard where Sweet Pea’s thigh presses too roughly against his crotch, heat spreading out through his body. Seeping into him wherever they’re pressed together, Sweet Pea’s body temperature unnaturally elevated, feverish, and it feels like that fever is slowly taking hold of Jughead as well.

His head is swimming, dark spots dancing in front of his field of vision and, when Sweet Pea finally pulls away from the kiss, Jughead sucks air into his burning lungs desperately, his chest heaving with the force of it. Without so much as a warning, Sweet Pea grabs Jughead by the hips and spins him around and Jughead just so manages to pull up his arms and slap his hands against the wall to stop his face from being smashed into it.

Sweet Pea wraps his arms around Jughead’s middle and pulls him back against Sweet Pea’s chest, Sweet Pea’s dick rubbing up against Jughead’s lower back and he can feel it throbbing, feel the wet trails it leaves behind on Jughead’s skin. Then Sweet Pea cants his hips lower, the head of his dick sliding between Jughead’s cheeks, catching at his hole and Jughead freezes, the breath getting stuck in his lungs as his throat closes up, his mind going blank for a terrifying second.

Because Sweet Pea is _big._ It always takes time and effort to get Jughead ready, to make him able to take Sweet Pea and even then it’s a tight fit. So, if Sweet Pea tires to fuck Jughead like this, dry and without prep, he’s really going to _hurt_ him. And that’s something Jughead thinks neither of them would be able to come back form.

“Sweets, wait.” Jughead chokes out, his mind frantic and panicky, one hand moving back to shove at Sweet Pea’s hips, to try and still his movements, the other jerking up to his own mouth. Because Sweet Pea is bigger and stronger than him and they both know that Sweet Pea doesn’t even really have to try to overpower him, so Jughead’s not going to be able to stop Sweet Pea, regardless of how terrifying that thought is right now. So he needs to do something else.

He’s a little startled, when Sweet Pea actually listens to him, the insistent motion of his hips stuttering to a halt and his head dropping forward until he’s huffing quick, hot puffs of breath against the back of Jughead’s neck, breathing him in. Sweet Pea’s entire body going rigid with some kind of strain and, God, maybe there’s still some of him left underneath that drug induced fever haze and it gives Jughead a thread of hope he clings to with all his might. Not wanting to tempt fate, Jughead shoves two of his fingers into his mouth and coats them in spit as thoroughly as he can before pulling them back out and reaching around himself.

His hand shaking a little, Jughead nudges Sweet Pea’s dick to the side and pushes one of his fingers into himself, his chest heaving as he tries to force himself to relax. He doesn’t know how much time he has before Sweet Pea loses patience, so he’s quick to add the second one, hissing around the sting of the stretch, scissoring them insistently. Jughead startles, when one of Sweet Pea’s hands closes over his and presses down, pushing Jughead’s fingers deeper into himself and he chokes out a moan at the feeling, mouth dropping open and eyes screwing tightly shut.

Then he can feel one of Sweet Pea’s fingers prod against his stretched rim and Jughead barely has time to choke out a protest before it shoves in alongside his, thick and insistent and oh, God, Jughead feels so full already. To his shame, his dick jumps helplessly at the feeling, hard and leaking as it curves up towards his stomach and he doesn’t get why he’s getting off on this, on feeling helpless and scared, but then all thought eludes him as Sweet Pea’s finger rubs up against his prostate and an almost too intense spark of pleasure shoots up his spine along with the insistent discomfort of being stretched too wide too quickly.

But both the burn of the stretch and the pleasure of his and Sweet Pea’s fingers fucking into him are heat and they blend into each other until he can barely tell them apart anymore. Sweet Pea shoves in another finger and Jughead can’t help the sob that pulls his chest tight and falls from his lips. Sweet Pea’s fingers are dry, but Jughead’s rim is wet enough form his own spit to make it work just so and Jughead has no control over what’s happening to him any more, Sweet Pea’s hand over his steering the pace and depth at which he thrusts into himself and Jughead’s not sure his body could take it if Sweet Pea tried to push in another one finger.

But Sweet Pea just keeps fucking him like this, heat pooling at the base of his spine, spreading out like a furnace is stuck in his belly, the tips of his fingers tingling where they’re pressed against Sweet Pea’s hips, where they’re thrusting into himself alongside Sweet Pea’s. It’s so intense he feels overwhelmed with it and all he can do is cling to Sweet Pea and ride it out, sob into the quiet space of the bunker, the concrete wall cool against his burning forehead, and then the wave of heat breaks and he’s coming. Spurting stripes of sticky white onto the wall in front of him, onto his stomach, clenching down around both of their fingers and it _burns,_ but it feels so fucking good at the same time.

He sags in Sweet Pea’s arms, desperately trying to catch his breath and can’t help but whine at the feeling when Sweet Pea pulls out, taking Jughead’s hand with him. His rim feels bruised and tender, same as it does inside of him, the emptiness he feels where they’re fingers were just a moment ago disconcerting, and he shudders when Sweet Pea growls, deep and guttural. Then Sweet Pea spins Jughead around to face him and Jughead has no choice but to follow clumsily as he’s dragged over to the bed.

The air whooshes out of him and he bounces a couple of times when Sweet Pea drops him onto the cot, then climbs on after. Sweet Pea’s eyes look wild, haunted almost, his face contorted and desperate, and it cuts deeper than Jughead wants to admit. He lifts his arms to cradle Sweet Pea’s face in his palms, gentle and careful as he strokes his thumbs along Sweet Pea’s cheeks soothingly, the skin so hot to the touch it worries him, unable to escape the urge to make this easier for Sweet Pea somehow, uncaring of his own discomforts.

Sweet Pea halts in the process of shoving Jughead’s legs apart and leaning over him and he shudders under Jughead’s touch, closes his eyes like he’s in pain. When Sweet Pea opens them again they’re just the tiniest bit clearer than they were before and it feels like Sweet Pea’s actually seeing him, a world of hurt and conflict twisting just beneath the surface. Sweet Pea’s hands clench on Jughead’s thighs until it’s almost painful, his face contorting, pulling tight and it hurts to see him like that. So Jughead leans in and presses a kiss against his lips, soft and sweet, even though it’s harder than he’d like to muster the coordination necessary to go through with the motion.

“It’s OK. You’re OK.” Jughead murmurs against Sweet Pea’s mouth, his voice rough and throaty and he can only hope that Sweet Pea _hears_ him. Sweet Pea makes a tortured, desperate sound low in his throat, his hands coming down to grip Jughead’s hips bruisingly hard and bears down on Jughead, starts to thrusts against him. Jughead hisses into the kiss as their dicks brush together, still feeling overly sensitive after his orgasm, the friction too much, and he shifts his hands until he can wrap his arms around Sweet Pea’s shoulders and cling to him as he rides it out.

Sweet Pea just keeps going, his movements rough and demanding, frantic, and Jughead’s head drops back onto the pillow, his mouth falling open as he gasps for breath. His hands clench helplessly against Sweet Pea’s back, hips twitching but with nowhere to go as Sweet Pea’s grip holds him still. After a bit, the discomfort begins to slowly bleed back into pleasure and Jughead can feel his dick twitch and begin to fill again, Sweet Pea’s gliding against him and sending little shocks of electricity up his spine that steal his breath.

Sweet Pea’s movements become harsher, jerkier, making Jughead slide across the sheets with every thrust, jostling him about and Jughead sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Sweet Pea buries his face in Jughead’s neck, starts to bite and suck harshly at the tender skin. Then Sweet Pea makes a sound, low and frustrated, distraught, and his hands release Jughead’s hips to scrabble at his thighs, push them up roughly until Sweet Pea can slide his hips back and down and the tip of his dick nudges at Jughead’s sore rim.

There’s just enough pre-come there to make it work as Sweet Pea shoves his hips forward and the head of his dick slides into Jughead, stretching him so fucking wide he can’t help the sob that bubbles up as his eyes screw shut. He already feels overused and Sweet Pea doesn’t give him any time to adjust, just keeps pushing, sliding in deeper, stretching him wider and the sting and burn of it is almost more than he can take.

Jughead does his best to try and force himself to relax, to just take it, a string of helpless little moans, broken ‘ah’s tumbling out into the air between them, his chest hitching with the force of his breaths. Sweet Pea is hot and hard and thick inside of him and he feels so fucking big, impossibly so. He just keeps going until his hips come flush with Jughead’s ass and salt stings harshly at Jughead’s eyes, moisture clumping his lashes together. Then Sweet Pea sobs against Jughead’s neck, a broken little sound that makes Jughead’s heart clench painfully, and starts to fuck into him, thrusts his hips hard enough to make the frame of the cot creak beneath them.

Jughead’s voice rises until he’s almost yelling with every harsh thrust and his fingers slip on Sweet Pea’s skin, sweat slick and stretched taut over straining muscles. It _hurts_ but it feels so fucking good at the same time, Sweet Pea inside of him, stretching him wide and filling him in a way that feels like it’s more than he should be able to take, throbbing and hot and Jughead doesn’t understand how both of those things are possible at the same time. But he doesn’t have enough working brain cells left to dwell on it. All he has is the conflicting waves of sensation that crash over him as Sweet Pea fucks mercilessly into him, mindlessly chasing his own release, making sounds like it’s torture for him.

Jughead can feel his orgasm building again, steady and unavoidable and he’s a little scared of how it will feel when he comes, of how it will hurt to clench down around Sweet Pea’s dick inside of him and he tries desperately to hold it off. But Sweet Pea keeps nailing his prostate, relentlessly sending shocks of white-hot pleasure tingling up his spine and he just can’t fight it, it’s all too much. One, two more harsh thrusts and Jughead comes with a shout, the feeling both awful and amazing, agonizing, and his vision fizzles out for a moment, black spots dancing in front of his eyes and his ears ringing so loudly it drowns out everything else.

His inner walls spasm around Sweet Pea’s dick, making it feel impossibly big and hard and so fucking deep and Jughead sobs as thin ropes of come dribble onto his heaving stomach. Sweet Pea groans miserably into Jughead’s neck but doesn’t stop fucking into him, grows more hurried, more desperate instead and Jughead presses his head back into the pillows until his neck aches from the strain and clings to Sweet Pea with all he’s got left. It’s too fucking much, more than he can take, every nerve ending overly sensitized, on fire where Sweet Pea’s dick fucks into him and he moves his hands clumsy and shaking and tries to shove Sweet Pea off of him. But his arms feel like they’re made of jelly, uncooperative and useless and Sweet Pea doesn’t budge.

“ _Sweet Pea_!” Jughead whines and Sweet Pea groans, snaps his hips forward hard enough to make Jughead’s head bump against the wall, then again, stars exploding behind the closed lids of Jughead’s eyes, his throat burning as he yells, and then Sweet Pea freezes over him. Shuddering helplessly as his orgasm washes through him and Jughead can _feel_ Sweet Pea twitch and throb inside of him, hot bursts of come filling him up and he chokes out a tortured moan at the feeling.

Sweet Pea collapses on top of Jughead, crushing him into the mattress and Jughead pushes feebly at him but Sweet Pea doesn’t react, just lies there panting, his skin burning up, the heat smothering and Jughead trapped. Jughead tries to calm himself down, to breathe as deeply as he can like this, tries to pretend like he’s not crying like an asshole. He lifts up one trembling, uncoordinated hand and wipes at his eyes angrily.

He can feel Sweet Pea going soft inside of him and when Sweet Pea finally hisses and moves just enough to pull out it hurts but it’s also such a relief Jughead hiccups out a shaky breath and buries his face in Sweet Pea’s hair. Breathes in the familiar, comforting scent, tries to hold onto that as he shakes underneath Sweet Pea’s weight, the dizzying mix of adrenaline and endorphins slowly beginning to wear off and leaving him feeling strung out and hazy.

His limbs heavy and his head fuzzy, like he could just close his eyes and sleep for a week and he can already feel the aches begin to set in, the bruises Sweet Pea left behind blending in with the ones he gained from his fall earlier and he knows that walking or sitting is going to be a bitch for a while. But he doesn’t think Sweet Pea did any _actual_ damage, so that’s something at least.

“Sweet Pea, come on. You’ve gotta move.” Jughead tries again, mustering all the strength he has left to push at Sweet Pea’s shoulder. To his surprise, Sweet Pea actually listens to him and, with a strained groan, rolls onto his side and off of Jughead.

Jughead takes a moment to just lie there and pull in deep breaths, one hand coming up to card through his sweat-matted hair, it’s messy and tangled and his fingers get caught in the strands. When he glances over at Sweet Pea, Sweet Pea’s face is flushed red and his eyes are closed, a frown pulling his face tight and Jughead thinks dazedly that he should probably really try to get some more water into him.

He tries to move, his muscles clenching down around nothing as he does so and he sucks air in through his teeth at the soreness, at that weird emptiness he feels and how it hurts. But he struggles through it and heaves himself up onto unsteady legs, the effort it takes almost too much and he has to cling to the frame of the cot for a second as a wave of dizziness hits him and dark spots dance across his vision. Once it’s faded Jughead pulls in a shuddering breath and he makes it over to where he dropped the water bottle earlier and hobbles back to the bed, collapsing onto it.

Sweet Pea hardly reacts, when Jughead pushes against his shoulder to get his attention. “Come on.” He urges and Sweet Pea cracks open one glassy eye, looks up at Jughead dazedly and Jughead worms a hand beneath his head so that he can lift it a little. Make for a better angle when he pushes the opened bottle against Sweet Pea’s lips and tilts. Sweet Pea drinks obediently, taking deep pulls and swallowing quickly as soon as the water hits his tongue. He must be parched. Jughead sure as Hell is.

Once Sweet Pea is done and some of the water starts to seep out to run across his chin and cheek, Jughead pulls the bottle away and lifts it up to his own mouth, swallowing down the rest of it. He lets the empty bottle clatter to the floor carelessly and sinks down onto his back, completely drained, no energy left to hold himself upright, still breathing heavily. The water sits a little queasily in his stomach, but it doesn’t make him sick so he can’t really bring himself to care.

He should probably go get another bottle of water, go get himself and Sweet Pea cleaned up somewhat, check and make sure Sweet Pea’s OK, that the worst of it is really over. But his limbs feel so heavy the thought of moving again seems an impossible effort, insurmountable, and his eyes slip shut of their own volition, out of his control. As soon as his eyes are closed, Jughead drifts off into unconsciousness. A heavy, exhaustion fueled sleep. All but dead to the world.

~*~*~

Jughead wakes to the feeling of being jostled, rough hands manhandling him until he’s lying on his stomach and then the hard, hot line of Sweet Pea’s body pressed along his back. Sweet Pea’s breath loud and harsh next to his ear. Discomfort rushes in sharp and real and Jughead bites his tongue against the groan that wants to slip out.

He feels disoriented and slow and it’s not until Sweet Pea starts pushing into him that he realizes what’s going on. He’s still fucked open and loose, slick with Sweet Pea’s come seeping out of him, but at the same time he’s so sore it’s agony and Jughead sobs into the sheets helplessly. Sweet Pea takes it slower this time, the pressure more intense with Jughead lying on his belly, his legs closed and bracketed by Sweet Pea’s. And Jughead can feel Sweet Pea shake on top of him, in tune with the way his dick throbs inside of Jughead and Jughead clenches his fists into the sheets until his knuckles turn white and tries to ride it out. Tries to be pliant and still and prays that it’ll be over soon, knows that trying to fight Sweet Pea off will accomplish nothing except making things harder for both of them.

To his shock, though, after a little while, subdued sparks of pleasure start to seep in with the pain and Jughead tries to cling to that, focus on it to ease the burn and the terrifying, bruised feeling inside as Sweet Pea fucks him. The tentative pleasure builds, slowly but surely, until it’s almost as strong as the discomfort, the two mixing together and threatening to drown Jughead in them and all he can do is moan along brokenly and take it.

He’s half-hard, the feeling unmistakable, his dick pressed into the mattress beneath him uncomfortably but, God, he hopes he doesn’t come again, he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. Sweet Pea’s pace becomes more urgent, his thrusts rougher and the flaring pain is enough to keep the pleasure at bay. Jughead’s moans turn into sobs again, a string of garbled pleas slipping mindlessly out in between. Then Sweet Pea shudders, his hips stuttering to a halt, buried so fucking deep inside of Jughead he can feel it in his stomach, and comes.

Sweet Pea’s hands clench on Jughead’s arms, a fresh set of bruises around his biceps, as heat floods him and he digs his teeth into the pillow and bites down harshly on the yell that burns up his throat, shuddering through it, his breath hiccuping out through his flared nostrils. Boneless and drained, his breathing labored and shaky, Sweet Pea pulls out of Jughead and collapses half on top of him.

Jughead is too out of it to try and push him off or even to complain, his limbs feel like they’re filled with lead and his head feels dull and fuzzy. The pull of unconsciousness is heady and insistent and Jughead has nothing left to fight it with, so he just sinks into it, welcomes the darkness that closes in around him and drowns out the ache.

~*~*~

Jughead comes back to himself to the sound of the hatch being opened and he feels instantly alert, adrenaline rushing through him as his foggy brain remembers that Fangs was supposed to come by in the morning to bring them a fresh sets of clothes. With alertness comes awareness of all of his aches and pains, though, and he groans as he tries to struggle into an upright position. Every muscle in his body feels sore and his limbs are heavy and uncooperative, his mouth dry as the desert and his head throbbing harshly. The twinge that shoots through his backside and up his spine as he moves is sharp and immediate and he sucks in a startled breath, freezing.

He reaches back a shaky hand and feels along his puffy, sticky rim, hisses at the sting as he carefully pushes one finger partway in and then pulls back. Brings his hand around and holds it up to the light, but there’s no trace of blood, just the milky white of Sweet Pea’s come and he breathes a tired sigh of relief, the tightness in his chest subsiding somewhat. Thank God. So he’ll just be really, really sore for a couple of days, he thinks a little numbly, no permanent harm done.

Jughead glances over at Sweet Pea, who’s lying on his side facing him, still out cold and dead to the world. Sweet Pea’s breathing is normal and deep and the feverish color has seeped out of his cheeks, leaving him pale and exhausted looking even in his sleep, but, more importantly, whole and very much alive. Fangs voice from the entrance to the bunker breaks through the renewed wave of relief that washes over Jughead.

“Jughead? Sweet Pea?” Fangs calls out, sounding worried and a little hesitant. “I brought your clothes. Can I come down? Are you alright?”

Given the state that both he and Sweet Pea are in, that’s probably a really bad idea so Jughead clears his throat hurriedly and calls out to Fangs before he can start climbing down the ladder. “We’re fine!” Jughead’s voice sounds much rougher than he’d like, his throat protesting the renewed abuse but he hopes it’ll be enough to deter Fangs. “We just need a little more time to recuperate. Rough night. Can you just drop the clothes and try to get a hold of Archie? See if he can come pick us up with his truck?”

Because Jughead honestly doubts that he’s in any shape to ride his bike back home and he doesn’t think Sweet Pea will be off much better either. They both need to get hydrated, get some food into their system and then sleep for about 12 more hours or so.

Fangs hesitates for a moment and he doesn’t sound entirely convinced when he speaks again, but he bows to Jughead’s reuqest anyway. “Alright. I’ll call Archie. And I’ll wait until he gets here, just to be safe. Tell me if you need anything, man.”

“Yeah.” Jughead croaks out and then he can hear the rustle of clothing and the louder thud of two pairs of shoes as they hit the the floor of the bunker. With a groan, Jughead lets himself drop back against the covers, one arm coming up to drape across his eyes and block out the light.

He knows he should get moving, get some water, get his clothes and get dressed and make sure that most of his bruises are covered up before he tries to wake Sweet Pea. But it’ll take Archie a bit to get here and Jughead just needs a minute to muster the strength he’s going to need to do all that. He’s not sure how much of what happened Sweet Pea will be able to remember once he comes to, some of his own memory is fairly hazy, but Jughead does know that the conversation they’ll need to have then will be anything but pleasant.

This is kind of bad, Jughead thinks and fights back the exhausted tears that sting at his eyes. But they’ve been through worse, Jughead tries to tell himself, with all of the shit this town has thrown at them so far. He has to believe that they’re going to make it, that they’re going to weather the aftermath of this clusterfuck and come out of the other end intact. His chest tight and achey Jughead rolls onto his side until he’s facing Sweet Pea, carefully brushes away some of the hair that’s stuck itself to his forehead and then leans in to press a soft kiss to the spot.

Sweet Pea wrinkles his brows, a slight frown pulling at his features, but doesn’t stir otherwise. With a pained sigh, his teeth clenched tightly at the discomfort, Jughead finally pushes himself up and swings his legs over the edge of the cot, the cement floor of the bunker cold against the bare soles of his feet.

Time to suck it up and get shit done.

~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> You've made it to the end, congratulations!  
> Hope you enjoyed it~  
> You are awesome! <3


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